Angel of Song
by PennyStarling17
Summary: Erik's still broken heart continues to bleed 140 years after Christine has left. Immortality means nothing to him without her. But what happens when the new owner of the opera house moves in and he discovers she's immortal too?
1. Chapter 1

**Merry Christmas and Happy holidays to everyone. My friends, Annastasia and Ouyang have been pestering me for a while to write a P.O.T.O. fanfic, so here it is! Merry Christmas to you two. You'd better love it, cause this is your Christmas present! **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, only do I own my characters. **

**Please enjoy! **

The frigid fall air swept through the streets of Paris, France as Calla St. Claire walked up the steps to the Opera Populaire. More than a hundred years ago, this had been the famous opera house that had the starring role in the infamous Phantom of the Opera incident.

For the last seven months, Calla had only left her small apartment when necessary, not after the attack. But, this trip was more than necessary, it was vital.

Jagger Masen, Calla's fiancé, the soul owner of the opera house, had been missing for the past year and in his office there had been a note asking for his will to be read, should he be missing for more than twelve months. So, his lawyers had read his will and he had left the opera house to her.

This opera house was her last connection to Jagger. And as such, she had decided to move in.

She shifted her duffle bag to her left hand, adjusted her backpack and guitar straps, and pushed open the door.

They opened to the foyer, which was occupied by the Masens' lawyer, Calla's lawyer, and Jagger's grandfather, Jackson.

"Ah, Ms. St. Claire. Good to see you," the Masens' lawyer called to her, causing the others to turn and look at her.

"And to see you, Mr. Johnson." She nodded to her lawyer and turned to the final occupant. She said warmly, "Jack."

She sent down her duffle bag and tightly hugged the 80-year-old man.

"The ever lovely Calla. How are you, my dear?"

She smiled ruefully. "Holding up."

"You're a survivor, Calla. You'll make it." He squeezed her shoulder. "If you need anything, anything at all, you have my number."

She hugged him again. "Thank you, Jack."

Calla's lawyer closed the file she had been looking at and turned to her. "Will you need anything else, Calla?"

Calla shook her head. "I'll be fine, Mary Ann. Thanks."

After quick goodbyes, the two lawyers and Jackson left, leaving Calla alone.

The vastness of the opera house suddenly hit her and she shrank back from the faded bronze statues as she ran up the stairs.

She knew this opera house better than the back of her hand and knew where all of the trap doors and secret passageways were. Which was why she choose the only room without either.

Dropping her stuff onto her bed, she rummaged through her backpack until she found what she was looking for.

She went to the chapel, picture and candle in hand.

The empty chapel only held the remnants of old, broken picture frames and long melted wax candles.

She set her favorite picture of Jagger and lit the large white candle.

Pausing, she stared at the picture, momentarily lost in her grief.

Jagger's blond hair was so light, it looked almost white and his jagged bangs fell into his steel-colored eyes. He wore faded black jeans, black combat boots, and his favorite Eagles t-shirt. His pale arms were wrapped around Calla's shoulders, covering the top of her off-the-shoulders purple halter top, which fell over her kaki skirt. She also wore black combat boots and a purple headband, holding back her long, curly black hair that fell down to her shoulders, spilling down to her over her shoulders.

They were both smiling at the camera, two pale faces, illuminated by the bonfire in the background.

_God, _she thought and she closed her eyes. _If you're listening, please send Jagger back to me. I need him._

She pushed her hair out of her tearing, icy blue eyes. She ran out of the chapel, barely reregistering the singing that followed her.

**~OOooOO~**

Erik had first scowled at the thought of a new owner of _his _opera house. But it wasn't like he had a say. After finding the key to immortality, he remained to the shadows, always a witness, never a participant. Not after Christine.

Oh, Christine.

All he knew of the new owner was that they had inherited it after someone or another went missing.

Silently moving through the shadows in the corridors, he heard the door to the opera house open and close and a man say, "Ah, Ms. St. Claire. Good to see you."

So, the new owner was a women?

Erik left before hearing her reply, stalking towards the chapel, the only room the whole damned building that had not been touched by the fire.

He heard the creaking of the steps and melted back into the shadows, barely content with just watching.

He saw a young women with curly black hair, clad in black jeans, black, scuffed combat boots, and a black halter top, enter the room.

She carefully set down a picture and lit the large white candle.

Hesitating, she closed her eyes. Silence lasted a moment as she opened her eyes. She pushed her hair out of her icy blue tear-filled eyes and her lower lip wobbled.

Erik froze. Something about this girl made him want to protect her, to make her feel safe.

"_Silently the senses, abandon their defenses…" _he sang softly.

She bolted out of the chapel.

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two! Yay! Merry Christmas Anna and Ouyang, I'm finally writing this for you two!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. And yes, there is a reference to the ****Blue Bloods**** series by Melissa De La Cruz. I felt it was an interesting twist to have her name the name I used. You'll see. Enjoy!**

Calla only slowed down when she got to the theater. She paused in the aisle.

"Well, well, well." Calla jumped and spun around, hand going to her throat.

Leaning against the side of the stage, stood Ash Masen, Jagger's twin brother. Clad in ripped black jeans, black combat boots, and a tight black t-shirt, he was the spitting image of Jagger. The only thing that made their appearance differ was the long scar on his left cheek, temple to jaw.

"Ash," Calla whispered. She absently tugged on the edge of her halter top, adjusting it over her jeans.

Ash rose an eyebrow. "Still in mourning?"

She glared at him. "As are you," she snapped.

He pushed away from the wall, jumped down from the stage and stood in front of her.

He scowled. "My brother was a fool to ever leave you alone."

She clenched and unclenched her hands as he continued, oblivious to the fury he was igniting within her. For nearly a year, Calla had no out lit for her overwhelming anger and helplessness at her situation and now one had turned up out of the blue right when her nerves were most raw.

"We haven't seen much of you in the last seven months." He smirked at her. "_Still _hiding out? It was noth-" Calla slapped him, stepping closer, anger burning in her eyes.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer.

_Crap. _she thought as she tugged uselessly against his hold. _This was his plan all along. _

"It was nothing, Calla!" he snapped, raising his voice. She shrank back and his eyes softened.

"Cal…" He gently hugged her as tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Sorry. I need to learn to watch my mouth," he muttered against her hair.

She sniffled as she leaned against him. No matter how much of a jerk Ash was, he had still always been her close friend.

The only reason she tended to avoid him was because he thought of her as more than a friend.

She didn't need to encourage that.

He tightened his embrace. "Calla," he paused and pulled back to lock eyes with her. "You're a survivor, Calla. You'll be fine."

She dropped her eyes. "You sound just like Jackson," she murmured. She glanced up in time to see him roll his eyes.

"Well, he is my Granddad," Ash mumbled.

Calla smiled, though she knew it didn't reach her eyes. Her fury had left her, now all she wanted was to lie down and turn back the clock. She just wanted the last seven months to have never have happened.

"I'll get going." Ash let Calla go and gave her his trademark smirk. "You know to call me if you need anything."

"Yes, dad," she mumbled, annoyed that even carefree Ash was worried about her.

He laughed and kissed her cheek before she could duck away.

He threw her a smirk and disappeared.

**~OOooOO~**

Erik wondered what had possessed him to sing _The Music of the Night_, the song he hadn't sung since Christine had left him to be with that wrenched Raoul.

Suddenly, the whisperings of a piano's music drifted to him, instantly being known to him as Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

Walking up to the theater, he saw the girl sitting at the piano in the middle of the stage.

She finished the song, stopping before the true end, looking like she was about to cry.

Erik clapped slowly, stepping out of the shadows.

She jumped off the bench, backing away.

Of course, this behavior did not surprise him. He was dressed in black slacks, black dress shoes, and a black button down shirt, with his trademark mask on.

"Who?…" She stumbled back a step, black hair quivering, eyes darting back and forth to find an exit.

"An interesting choice for a first song in _the _Opera Populaire. Dark, depressing, heartbreaking." Erik stepped onto the stage.

"I find it calming and smooth. Hardly depressing," she mumbled, taking another step back, trying to gather her courage.

"Why play it, though? Out of all the choices you have to play, you choose Moonlight Sonata."

She raised her head, defiance radiating off of her. "I don't have to explain my motivations to anyone. Especially someone who stalks through these corridors." She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

Erik barked a laugh. "Do you know who I am, girl?" he demanded, locking eyes with her.

She straightened even more as her icy blue eyes flashed , changing for a moment to violet then turning back to blue.

"You are Erik, the so-called "Phantom of the Opera" or "Opera Ghost" of 140 years ago. And my name is not "girl". It is Seraphiel Calla Eliza St. Claire!" she snapped, fury springing within her heart.

She knew her eyes flashed violet again, a sign she was immortal.

Erik's eyes flashed orange, causing her to stifle a gasp. He was immortal too.

"Interesting name. Seraphiel, 'Angel of Song.'"

Silently she cursed herself for using the name her absentee father had given her. He had told Calla's mother that he knew she would be a beautiful songstress. He had been right, though Calla would never admit it.

Erik gave Calla a dark smile, taking another step forward. "Well, 'Angel of Song', I just came to welcome you to _my _opera house." He paused and suddenly, he was in front of Calla, pressing her against he wall, hand at her throat. She glared at him, a dark fury crossing her face and he smirked and leaned closer. "Now, about your stay…"

**Thank you for reading! Please review! Updates to come within the next week. (Hopefully).**


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